


What's a Sinner to a Saint

by FrostysaurusRekt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Plug, Demon!Hanzo, Eventual Smut, Frottage, M/M, Maybe just a sprinkle of plot, Nympho!McCree, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Really Bad Puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostysaurusRekt/pseuds/FrostysaurusRekt
Summary: He aims for hair, but finds his fingers bumping against horns instead.Jesse’s confused for all of two seconds until he remembers that it’s Halloween and the man likely has a costume as well. He honestly, well and truly, can’t help himself. “I guess you could say you’re pretty-”“Don’t.”-The Halloween FicTags will be updated as the story progresses.





	

“I can’t believe I let you drag me into this.”

Jesse whirls around, long black habit flowing being him as he jabs a loose finger at his friend’s bared chest. “Let me? I won that bet fair and square, Gabi, and you know it.” He walks his finger’s up the others chest before flicking his nose, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t be upset just because I’m a better bettin’ man than you are.”

Gabriel, or Gabi as he was oh so affectionately named, crosses his arms and clenches his fists- a common tell that he’s attempting not to throw down with Jesse right then and there, a scuffle on the porch. Although, if the night stays as bland as it had been so far, Jesse would be tempted to push Gabriel’s limits of tolerance.

Halloween - festive, fun, and stocked with people he doesn’t know. The bar hopping to pregame the party was a total flop, every joint nearby was packed to the brim with people in costumes, drunk or desperate to be there soon. It was a nightmare getting in the doors, and forget even buying a drink.

So here they were, at a dear friend’s party… painfully sober.

“Who the fuck hosts patient races and bets on the guy with broken legs? How was I supposed to know Ms. Head Trauma was gonna bust her ass?” Gabriel snarls under his breath as they wait for the door to be answered.

Jesse shrugs, neglecting to mention that he’d been well aware the hospital floor had been freshly waxed and may or may not have told his bet to take it slow. “I needed a sexy nurse to go alongside my gorgeous lil’ nun costume, Gabi. You wouldn’t want to leave me hangin’, would ya?” He teases, adjusting Gabriel’s costume.

He makes the heart window over the man’s chest even, and grabs the end of the doctor’s short skirt, hitching it just a bit higher.

“Nothing I ever do stops you from _hangin’._ ” Gabriel mocks, glancing down at where Jesse’s nun costume barely slips over his hips.

Jesse snickers and pulls out a tube of lipstick. “Hold still,” He instructs, and despite the ferocious scowl aimed at him, turns Gabriel’s lips a bright cherry red - a matching color for his own lips. “A mighty fine m- _ass_ -terpiece.” He crows, punctuating his word play with a light tap on the man’s rear.

“I find it hard to believe you used to be a sunday school teacher, Jess.”

Before he could entertain a response, the door swings open and a blonde witch stares at them from beneath the brim of her pointy hat. “Oh no. No, you are not coming in here dressed like that.” She groans.

Jesse glances at Gabriel’s costume first, finding nothing wrong with the tight nurse outfit - complete with a rather large hypodermic needle - and then to his own. His nun costume was flawless, collar and the low neckline framing his hairy chest, fishnet stockings just the right amount of torn up, his hemline barely covering the bottom of his ass. Okay, so the black cowboy boots with little silver crosses on them might have been a bit much, but they were rotting away from his teaching days, so he figured he’d put them to use while he could.

The smile that works its way onto his face is nothing short of devilish.

“Jesse McCree. Do not!” The witch shrieks, putting her hands on his chest and pushing to try and keep him out. “Gabe, stop him!”

Gabe chuckles and does nothing, absolutely enjoying the trainwreck about to happen.

The nun does his best impression of a locomotive, chugging his arm. “Choo choo! All aboard for Fucktown!” He yells, pushing past the witch like she weighs nothing and disappearing into the throng of people.

Horrified, the witch stares at Gabriel with wide eyes.

The nurse sighs, and gives her a mock salute. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Ange. Make sure he doesn’t fuck any coworkers this time.”

Jesse works his way into the crowd, laughing throatily when someone manages to accidentally grind up against him. He’s a man on a mission and that mission is alcohol.

He knows this house, has visited many times for casual dinners with Angela and her girlfriend, has been here for the famous (or infamous depending on who you’re asking) parties that Angela always throws. His size makes it easier to elbow his way into the kitchen, a couple of ‘ _scuse me' s_ and ' _pardon me_ ’s keep anyone from getting too upset with him for throwing his weight around.

When he makes it to the island counter in the kitchen, he finds the other woman of the house. Powdered pale with dark makeup around her eyes- he thinks it’s a zombie costume, but he can’t be sure. One thing is for certain, he’s determined to have that shot she’s about to down.

Jesse saunters up, plucks the glass from her hand as she raises it to her lips and downs it himself. He lets out a satisfied hiss and smacks his lips before replacing it back in the woman’s hands. “Thanks Fareeha, I needed that.” He coos and leans in to kiss her cheek, leaving a bright red stain.

“Jesse,” She hisses, swatting at him. She takes one look at him and then pours two shots, one for each of them. “Angie let you in here like that?”

He hums, leans against the counter and smiles like the imp he is. “I wouldn’t say _let_ …” He trails off, grabbing his glass and taking another shot.

Fareeha narrows her eyes. “But nothing stops you, right?”

“Oh come on, Faree, it’s halloween. Lighten up!” He waits until she takes hers, pours two more and brings her fresh one to her lips. “‘Sides, I haven’t gotten laid in a good week.”

She sputters, choking on her shot while he smirks at the lip of his.

“Still a shy thing,” He flits around her, kisses her other cheek and grabs the bottle of whiskey from the counter. “You try that little trick I told you about with Angie yet?”

She turns a bright red and sweeps out of the room in a fluster, leaving Jesse to take shots by his lonesome. He drinks and drinks until a tingle settles in his legs and he’s leaning over the island counter to support himself.

Jesse’s eyes fall to a man in a devil costume, red horns and pitchfork. Not the cutest guy around, but the whiskey and shots - he thinks they were vodka of some fashion - make him passable enough for Jesse to end his dry spell. He pours a glass and sips gently at the amber alcohol with a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

Eyes meet his, and he wouldn’t be able to tell you what color they were, even in the moment. Wholly uninterested in such romantic notions, there wasn’t a soul yet that entertained him past a single fling. He didn’t bother falling into memorizing the details of the devil - he would just be one among the many.

The devil smiles at him, notices his leer and they fall into flirty, gaudy conversation. Pick up lines, promises of a good time, all accentuated with heated looks. Jesse is a million dollar ticket and this poor sap won the lottery.

He's about to suggest they sneak off for a good time when the devil abruptly stiffens, downs the rest of his drink and scurries away with his tail tucked between his too skinny legs. It’s rude, by all standards. Even if the guy didn’t want one hell of a ride, he could’ve at least said something instead of running scared.

Jesse scoffs, leans more onto the island and lets out a huff. He’ll have to start his hunt all over again and hope it’s not just scraps that are left.

“Fuckin’ dick doesn’t know what he’s missin’.” He grumbles to himself, allowing a single moment of anger to blemish his otherwise spotless nice of fun.

“He does, actually.” A voice purrs at his ear, deep and throaty with an accent he just can’t place. Jesse tries to turn around to see what look might accompany such an alluring voice, but firm hands grab his thick hips and hold him in place - and damn it all if that strength isn’t a jolt straight to his dick. “But he has enough self preservation to not challenge me.”

It’s egotistical, a gamble for Jesse. Unattractive unless his partner can back it up. He decides to play their game. “ _Challenge_ ,” He coos, pushing back against those hands, feeling hips press against his ass. “You make it sound like I’ll roll over for the biggest buck in the woods.”

The mystery man chuckles, the sound vibrating through both of their bodies and making Jesse shiver. A sound far too sinful to rightfully exist. “Hardly, but I always aim to _prove_ ,” He punctuates the words with a slow roll of his hips, grinding a rather large, clothed erection against the cleft of Jesse’s ass and causing the hem of his costume to roll up a scant amount. “that I am never second best.”

Jesse hums and grips at the counter to steady himself. “Y’know, actions speak louder than words.” He replies, tossing a smirk over his shoulder.

He catches a glimpse of blue-grey skin, a wicked smile with fangs, before a hand sneaks up from his hip and fingers slip under his collar. It’s not a chokehold, but it yanks Jesse upright, flush against a solid chest, and then trails down until nails sift through his chest hair.

Teeth bite at his shoulder, hips grind forward again and Jesse is helpless in his reaction - he rears back, lets out a breathy laugh, and reaches to grab at the mystery man’s head. He aims for hair, but finds his fingers bumping against horns instead.

He’s confused for all of two seconds until he remembers that it’s Halloween and the man likely has a costume as well. He honestly, well and truly, can’t help himself. “I guess you could say you’re pretty-”

“Don’t.”

“Horny.”

The man bites at him again, harder, drawing a whimper from Jesse, and bucks against him. “Terrible.” He murmurs, licking at the bite mark.

“Some would call me the worst.”

He isn’t given a response, but the man’s hips never leave him, pushing more and more until he’s got Jesse pinned between him and the counter - not that he’s complaining. The hand on his chest slips under his costume and grabs at his pec, groping it harshly with sharp nails digging into it. The other hand leaves his hips and travels down to his thighs, brushing the backs of his knuckles over the fishnets and when the man drags his hand back up, there’s a distinct ripping sound, nails catching and tearing holes.

Jesse tugs on the horn in his hand, testing its give. He pulls tighter and tighter with each roll of his hips, his own trapped cock - although trapped is a loose interpretation with how little the thong he wears actually restricts him - rutting against the counter. He’s nearly using his full strength and still the horns don’t give, strong costuming holding up well under the circumstances. “Fuck,” He breathes out. “I ain’t even got your name yet, sugar.”

There’s a hum, but little else as the hand on his thigh travels higher and higher, pushing his costume up until his ass is completely bare.

He doesn’t even care that he’s being rut against like a dog in heat in the middle of his friend’s kitchen where she or any of their coworkers could walk in and see him. Not like they haven’t caught him with his pants down before, he’s shameless, here for a good time and it wouldn’t surprise anyone.

“Hanzo,” The man responds finally, taking a firm handful of his ass.

“Jesse,” He responds, groaning when Hanzo pulls his cheeks apart and slots himself _just so_ \- his dick, covered as it may be, nestled right between.

The man lets out a grunt of surprise, a sputter of curiosity swiftly following before he pulls away just enough to slip his hand where his cock had been seconds before.

All things considered, the plug was easily forgotten. Small, by Jesse’s standards, and nestled inside of him. It was a habit first borne of a repressed man’s coming into his sexuality, a sunday school teacher walking away from the more homely and pious life only to be shown that sex was less of a sin, and more of a liberating adventure. Cock rings, leather harnesses, silk ropes binding his wrists; a few among many things he’d tried, hoping to find something that made him feel good about himself and the life he led.

It always amused him, out of all the adrenaline rushes and thrills his trysts had garnered, a plug was what made him feel like he was driving backwards on a highway at one hundred miles an hour, but at the same time, secure in the world around him. It was something only he knew about unless he chose to invite someone in, it was his secret that he kept tucked away and yet flaunted on a near daily basis. As soon as he’d become enamored with the feeling of the bulb inside of him, he’d set to work researching and saved up all he could for the best set of stainless steel plugs he could buy.

“What have we here?” Hanzo asks, following his question with a smattering of bites down the back of Jesse’s neck.

“Give it a tug and find out.”

There's movement and can just imagine Hanzo’s fingers slipping into the handle and moving it in slow, exploratory movements.

Jesse gasps, bites into the back of his hand to contain the groan that threatens to ring across the kitchen. He almost regrets wearing the smaller of the three this evening- he’d been prepared to party for a long while and didn’t want to get smashed with one of the bigger ones inside of him, that was potentially asking for trouble. As much sex as he had, at least he was always safe about it.

The smaller one is a good weight, curved specifically to nestle right against his prostate, and every drawn out, torturous movement Hanzo makes, Jesse can feel.

Suddenly the weight and pull eases. Hanzo springs like a threatened rattlesnake, hands slamming onto the counter and leaning his full weight into Jesse. He's shorter than the nun, but broader. It doesn’t bother Jesse much, it isn’t unusual for his partners to be a few inches shorter than him- he can’t help his size, but he sure knows how to flaunt it.

“Shall we go somewhere more, _private_?”

“Fuck, Sweetheart, thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: ryuu-ga-waga-go-fuck-yourself  
> Twitter: @FrostyRekt  
> 


End file.
